


Up From A Past That’s Rooted In Pain – I Rise

by MistressofHappyEndings



Series: Poetry in Motion [6]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Holding Hands, M/M, Never Underestimate a French Grandmother, Not Canon Compliant, ambiguous timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:54:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26608567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressofHappyEndings/pseuds/MistressofHappyEndings
Summary: It has, Nicky muses to himself as he tilts his face to the afternoon sun, been a rather excellent day.
Relationships: Booker | Sebastien le Livre/Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolo di Genova, Booker | Sebastien le Livre/Nicky | Nicolo di Genova
Series: Poetry in Motion [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1923037
Comments: 12
Kudos: 90





	Up From A Past That’s Rooted In Pain – I Rise

It has, Nicky muses to himself as he tilts his face to the afternoon sun, been a rather excellent day. 

Joe had become immersed in an art project early in the morning, but both Booker and Nicky had been restless and decided to take advantage of the lovely weather to take a walk through the winding streets of their neighborhood. With only the desire to be free of confining walls to guide them, they had wandered with no real destination in mind. 

They had covered quite a bit of ground before they eventually ended up at their favorite bistro for lunch. Both the food and the service had been as excellent as always, and they had amused themselves by making up silly stories about the lives and histories of the people walking past their patio table while they ate. Giselle, the owner of the establishment, had not let them leave without a bottle of Joe’s preferred red wine to share with him later. She had winked at them as she handed it over, making Nicky laugh and Booker blush. 

They continue on their aimless ramble until the darkening sky encourages them to turn their footsteps towards home. As they begin to pass more familiar territory, Nicky reaches over with the hand not holding the wine bottle and takes Booker’s hand in his. A shy smile crosses the younger man’s face, and he laces his fingers firmly through Nicky’s and doesn’t let go. Nicky feels a smile of his own spread across his lips. They must look like the lovesick fools that they are as they get a few raised eyebrows from people they pass, but these people are easily ignored in favor of the companionable silence that settles gently between them. 

They are only a few blocks from their home when they come to a small cottage with a vibrant, riotous flower garden surrounding it. On impulse, Booker reaches over the fence and nimbly plucks two flowers – one a wine red with a deep pink center and one with yellow petals shot through with fiery red streaks. Eyes shining with mischief and adoration, he tucks the red flower behind one of Nicky’s ears. Nicky chuckles at his antics and leans forward to thank Booker with a kiss. 

Before they can take that kiss any further, a disgruntled harumph interrupts them. 

“Sébastien Philippe le Livre! Are you stealing flowers from my garden again?” 

Booker jumps and his eyes widen for a moment before he schools his face into a contrite expression. Hand still wrapped around Nicky’s, he turns to face the wrath of the voice behind him. 

A tiny, aged woman stands on the other side of the fence with one hand on her hip and the other clutching a cane to support her. She has a stern expression on her face, one eyebrow raised in question that demands an answer. It should not be possible for such a small woman to be so intimidating, but this one does so effortlessly. Booker ducks his head like a little boy caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar. 

_“Oui, Mémé Vivienne, je suis désolé."_

She harumphs at him again and click-clacks her way down the tiny path until she is looking up into sheepish green eyes. “As well you should be, _mon chou_ ,” she scolds, “You haven’t been to see me in over a week, and the back flower beds need weeding.” 

Vivienne Marché had been the first of their neighbors to visit them when the three of them had moved in a little over three years ago. It had taken her sharp eyes and compassionate heart only that one visit to see how lost they had been at the time, how desperate Joe and Nicky had been to take care of their younger lover, how sunk in depression Booker had been with little idea how to climb out of it. 

As a widow whose own children and grandchildren had scattered over the globe, she had immediately decided to adopt them all, but it was Booker who held a special place in her heart. 

Her calm, no-nonsense approach had been the balance that Booker had needed to the sometimes stifling, though well-meant, attentions of his lovers. Whenever he had felt he had to escape somewhere and just be for a while, Booker would often find himself at Vivienne’s cottage, where she set him to tending her garden while plying him with tea and pastries. If he wanted to talk, she would listen, and if he didn’t, she would respect that as well. 

Her garden became a safe space for Booker as he struggled with his affliction, and Vivienne guarded it fiercely against any who would try to intrude on her newly acquired grandson’s peace, including Joe and Nicky. Although it had hurt the older two immortals at first that Booker would need such a place away from them, they gradually saw the calming effect Vivienne and her garden had on their younger lover, and instead of being resentful could only be grateful for the way Booker had bloomed under the elderly woman’s care and concern. 

“Ah, _mémé_ , I –” Booker half-heartedly protests. 

“ _Non, non_ ,” she waves a finger under his nose, “you want flowers for _tes amants_ , you must help them thrive and grow. You will be here tomorrow morning, bright and early. 9 o’clock would be ideal. I will make tea and croissants.” 

Knowing he is beat, Booker accepts his fate gracefully and leans down to drop a kiss on her cheek. “ _Oui, mémé_ , I will be here.” 

A faint blush colors her cheeks that she tries to cover up with a narrowing of her eyes. “See that you are. Nicolas?” 

Nicky, who had been watching the whole scene with a wide grin, snaps to attention at the brisk call of his name and answers quickly, “Yes, _mémé_?” 

“You bring José tomorrow night at 7 pm sharp,” she instructs. “Sébastien and I will prepare dinner, boeuf bourguignon, I think, yes, that would be best. You are too skinny, all three of you, you need some fattening up. You may bring some of that Greek pastry you are so fond of.” 

Nicky bows his head in acquiescence. “Ah, yes, of course we will, I promise.” 

“Good, good.” She nods decisively then waves a hand at them. “Now, off with you both. You don’t want José’s flower to wilt before you can give it to him.” 

Booker kisses her once more on the cheek. “ _Merci, Mémé Vivienne._ ” 

The two men wave good-bye and continue on their way home. 

Yes, Nicky muses as the man beside him starts whistling a cheerful tune, swinging their joined hands slightly to the beat, it has been a truly excellent day.

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone who's interested, Vivienne is based on Judi Dench's character in _Chocolat_. I'm not generally one for chick flicks - which may come as a shock, but it's true! - but I really enjoyed this one, and Judi is always a delight.


End file.
